Veteran of the psychic wars
by saltedshotgun
Summary: Day is way too sleepy.


**Veteran of the psychic wars  
**Dean, Sam. Gen.  
**  
**_Summary:_ Dean is way too sleepy.  
_Notes:_ Fic is unbeta'd, english is not my first language.  
_Disclaimer: _I only wish they were mine.

* * *

Dean is just tired; he goes to sleep and wakes up as tired as he was the night before but given their lifestyle it's not too surprising. Dean tries to remember the last time he felt rested and realizes he can't. It's been like that for a few months but now that Sam's back, whole and right in the head again, Dean feels like he's crashing – hard.

But he's just tired. Just tired, and Sam staring at him like Dean's an object that needs to be studied won't change anything about it.

* * *

"I think you might be depressed, Dean," Sam says and looks up at him from the computer. Dean opens his eyes slowly and lifts his right forearm he was covering his eyes with. His eyelids feel heavy and hard to open as if they were covered with glue and lead. He turns his head to look at Sam and narrows his eyes at him.

"Why the fuck would I ever be depressed," he says and the bite that was meant to be there gets lost baneath how tired Dean sounds, his tongue tripping and stumbling over the words and his teeth and Dean has to blink to keep himself awake.

"Seriously," Sam says, "I googled it and it says one of the most common causes of excessive sleeping is depression and really, Dean, how could you not be?" He's looking at Dean like a lost little puppy. "With everything going on, and ever since my wall broke I was too... I didn't pay attention and – "

Sam sounds like he might implode every second now, voice tight with guilt and Dean cuts in.

"Sam, Sam, no, shut up. Listen, you had your own shit to deal with, I had mine and we're still here. I'm not _depressed_," Dean spits the word out like venom, like it might pollute his mind if he kept dwelling on it for too long, "I'm just tired as fuck and I won't be able to sleep unless you shut up and turn the laptop off. "

Silence fills the room for a moment before Sam lets out a quick breath. "Alright," he says but Dean doesn't hear him because he's asleep already.

* * *

When he wakes up the next morning (and the sun is already up and what the hell, when was the last time Dean slept that long?) he feels just as tired as he felt last night.

* * *

The waitress in the diner is nice and even kinda hot but Dean can't care enough to even smile up at her. He stares at his menu and realizes that before he gets to the end he already forgets the beginning. In the end he just smiles at the waitress and points to something random.

Sam is looking at him with _that_ look; the looks that says _'I know you're hiding something from me.'_

Dean can't care enough about that either.

"I'll be right back," Sam says and gets up, heading towards what Dean assumes are the toilets. The next thing he knows is that Sam is shaking him awake.

"Dude, did you get any sleep at all last night?" he asks after Dean jerks himself awake and Sam slips into his seat across the table.

"Yeah, yeah I did," Dean says and leans his elbows on the table, props his head up in his hands and draws a deep breath through his teeth. His eyes sting and keep closing despite his best efforts. "Maybe not as much as I thought, though," Dean adds and looks at Sam.

Sam's eyebrows are furrowed and Dean can't tell if he's pissed or worried or just thoughtful.

* * *

Dean remembers days when he could go with minimum of sleep for days - weeks even - and felt better than he does now after a night full of undisturbed sleep and two naps in the car. Sam is driving and it takes Dean a few seconds to realize they're not in the Impala because they had to stash her away for a while.

Dean falls asleep again missing his car.

* * *

Sam wakes him up and asks him to drive for a while.

"I'm falling asleep, man," Sam yawns while opening the door and getting out of the car. Dean wonders how long has he been sleeping and given that it's dark already he suspects that at least several hours. He pops his back and before he has the chance to open his door Sam is there already, ushering him out of the car.

"Hurry up, it's cold," he says.

Dean slides behind the wheel while Sam slides into the car next to him.

"As soon as you see a motel or anything, stop. I can't wait to lie in an actual bed, these seats are so uncomfortable," Sam mumbles and leans his head against the seat, closing his eyes.

Dean grips the wheel and his fingers feel loose and rubbery. He's so tired but he knows he shouldn't be – he did sleep for the better part of the drive. He can drive for a few minutes before they find a motel.

* * *

Dean almost crashes the car into a tree, his eyes closing with their own free will; but only almost. He swirls the wheel at the last possible moment and glances at Sam who only snores loudly.

* * *

Dean turns on the computer to do some googling himself while Sam is out to get breakfast. He wakes up when Sam comes back.

It's not like Dean _can't_ stay awake – he can, when he really wants to - or has to. But why should he?

* * *

Sam gets pissed at Dean when he falls asleep during research on their new hunt – a vengeful spirit in Arizona – and lets him hear it to great lenghts.

" – and the worst thing is," Sam is saying while Dean blankly stares at him, too sleepy to even defend himself, "that you are obviously struggling with something but you just won't. Let me. Help. Dean," he says sharply and Dean opens his eyes, "you gotta know this is not normal. Not even you can be in such a denial."

Dean stares at his own feet before nodding slowly.

* * *

The doctor says something about idiopathic hypersomnia and that's when Dean stops listening. He keeps his eyes open but his thoughts are elsewhere. He knows Sam is listening to every word, every instruction and that he'll remember them better than Dean ever could, hypersomnia or not.

* * *

"Where are we?" Dean asks when he opens his eyes. The car is parked and there's complete darkness outside.

"Rufus' cabin," Sam replies and turns to Dean. "We're gonna hole up here for a while, wait for your pills to kick in (_'– they're antidepressants, Dean, the doctor said they usually help some –'_), get you back on your feet."

"Sam," Dean moans and closes his eyes. "We don't exactly have time to _hole up_ anywhere. Remember the Leviathans? Remember Cas in the nuthouse we left him in? Come on, man. We have too much to do."

"Yeah, well," Sam says and he looks a little pissed again, "what are you good for, exactly, when you can't stay awake for six hours straight?"

Dean just shrugs and says nothing and Sam sighs.

"I didn't mean it like _that_, Dean," he says softly, "but you can't hunt the Leviathans while falling asleep standing up."

"Alright," Dean says and opens the door. "Let's stay, then. But just for a few days."


End file.
